


Right As Rain

by bklt



Series: Texts [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hospitals, Mutual Pining, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bklt/pseuds/bklt
Summary: But Nicole...talking with her made Waverly feel something she hadn’t in a very, very long time.Seen. More importantly, heard. And that Nicole could hear and see parts of her that no one else bothered was new, invigourating, and absolutely terrifying.Nicole's still in the hospital after her abduction. Waverly visits and comes bearing entertainment in the form of Animal Crossing.





	Right As Rain

**Author's Note:**

> So theroadtopurgatory tumblr has text messages between Waverly and Nicole, and I was inspired to write some fics based on them. This one is based off of the first one.

Waverly wasn’t unique in disliking hospitals, though it didn’t make her feel any better or less on edge by the solidarity. The smell of disinfectant combined with the ugly blue-green and smoker’s off white paint of the walls certainly didn’t help matters either, her stomach a queasy bundle of nerves as she sped down the hallway towards Officer Haught—Nicole’s—room.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. When she saw Nicole last, it had been when she just woke up from the aftermath of her abduction, confused and still bleeding through her bandages. Seeing Nicole biting back tears while she recounted what happened to her caused thorns to pierce Waverly’s heart, unable to do anything but listen to how Nicole was taken, beaten, and left to bleed out in a ditch by the woods. Doc described the state of Nicole’s squad car when he found it; blood, and lots of it, all on Nicole’s side, the steering wheel, the driver’s side door, her crimson handprint staining the clipboard. All things considered, what Waverly saw of Nicole then was _mild_.

The feeling in Waverly’s stomach worsened when she was a meter away from Nicole’s room, barely enough time for her to calm her breathing before she crossed the threshold. To her simultaneous relief and disappointment, Nicole was asleep, her thin sheet pulled up over her chest and bandaged arms laying palm up and uncomfortable beside her. This wasn’t how Waverly imagined seeing Nicole out of uniform. She thought it’d be on a sunny day on some lazy weekend, buying Nicole that coffee she was still owed, hair down and falling around her broad shoulders. She wanted to see that side of Nicole on her own terms, not like this, laying in an old tank top she probably didn’t expect anyone to see.

A small consolation was that Nicole looked okay, or at least better than last time. The swelling around her eye had gone down somewhat, the gash above her eye freshly cleaned and steri strips free of blood. The injuries may have gone down on the surface, but Waverly knew it wasn’t an indication for the damage it caused on the inside. And as unreasonable as it was, Waverly couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault. It was the curse. Her family name did this and got Nicole dragged into it as collateral.

Sighing, Waverly gently placed her bag on the old, maroon vinyl chair next to Nicole’s bed, quietly rifling through it with her good arm to look for a scrap piece of paper and a pen. Nicole should at least know someone visited her while she slept. As far as Waverly knew, her and Nedley were her only visitors, and she didn’t want Nicole to feel more alone than she probably did.

Uncapping her pen with her mouth, Waverly leaned on the small bedside table, thinking about what to write before she heard the bed creak beside her.

“Waverly.”

She jumped, Nicole’s voice surprising her despite—or because of—how weak and raspy it sounded. Waverly waved with her pen. “Nicole! Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m sleepin’ mostly out of boredom anyways.”

“I can leave if you’re-”

“No! No it’s really okay. Trust me, I could use your company,” she smiled weakly, her eyes strained red and half open, no doubt fighting off a gigantic headache.

“How are you doing? I’ve been really worried about you.”

Nicole’s eyes lit up at Waverly’s concern. “Doing better, now that you’re here.” Waverly could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “How’s Wynonna? Is she safe?”

“Yeah. She’ll be okay,” Waverly said. “Okay” was pretty relative. Waverly was positive Wynonna hadn’t slept yet, unless passing out drunk counted, as it often did with her. Any attempt to talk to her older sister was deflected, Wynonna mumbling about how there was still work to be done, babygirl, the spice of whiskey reeking off of her more than usual. At this rate, Wynonna was going to drop before she could even make a dent in the last seventy revenants.

Nodding, Nicole sat up in her bed with a grimace and blankly stared at her hands, her lips taught in a frown. “I wish we could’ve saved those other girls. To die like that…”

Waverly decided to spare Nicole the gruesome details. In all honesty, she didn’t know many of them, but from the very little Wynonna offered up or didn’t joke about...Waverly couldn’t bring herself to think about it. “I know. But we couldn’t have found Wynonna without you. I know it was hard to talk about what happened to you, but it really, really helped us. If it weren’t for you she’d…” Waverly gulped, reaching out and brushing Nicole’s fingertips with hers. “But she’s alive. And so are you. And he’s never going to hurt anyone ever again.”

Surprised, Nicole looked at where their fingers met, moving her index to graze Waverly back. “They got him?”

“More like Wynonna took care of it.”

“With that gun of hers?” Nicole’s eyes narrowed momentarily until she caught sight of Waverly’s sling. “Wait. What about you? Are you okay?”

“Well I won’t be challenging anyone to an arm wrestling competition any time soon.”

The humour left Waverly when she saw how focused Nicole was on her arm, how she bit her lip and curled her hand around her own, the gauze scratching against her skin. “How did it—what happened?”

“I um, kinda got pushed into a wall during the attack on the Homestead. It wasn’t that bad,” Waverly said, very much trying to downplay the fact she was force-thrown and slammed into the side of a building by a witch. “I think I just landed on it funny.”

Before Nicole could ask any more questions, Waverly went back to her overcrowded bag again to fish for something else. “But, uh, hey, you said you were bored. I have something that might help?” She pulled out her pink and white Nintendo 3DS XL and handed it over to Nicole, who took it curiously. “Better than watching daytime television on a tiny TV screen, right?”

Nicole raised her eyebrow. “I’m not really one for games-”

“Oh! Sorry, I-”

“-but,” Nicole laughed, raising her hand to stop Waverly, “that’s because I never really tried. First game I played for more than five minutes was a few drunken rounds of Mario Kart in college. Thought I was doing pretty well...until I realized I was looking at the wrong screen.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Waverly sighed dramatically. “But seriously, Mario Kart was the first thing you played? Your parents didn’t have an old NES laying around? No secret GTA at a friend’s house?”

Nicole shook her head. “They were more the “video games rot your brain” type.”

“Yeah, Aunt Gus was like that. She’d go on about how they were a bad influence and how they “might give Wynonna ideas,”” Waverly imitated Gus’ slow drawl, much to Nicole’s amusement. “Uncle Curtis let it slide. I think he was just happy Wynonna and I had something to do together—that we could be together.”

God, she missed him.

“I remember-” Waverly laughed, “I remember digging up research articles about games and their effects to show Aunt Gus. How there was no correlation between fantasy violence and…” suddenly self conscious, Waverly let herself trail off. “Aaand I’m rambling.”

“No you’re not. You don’t have to apologize for talking about yourself,  Waves.” The use of her nickname was warm, the familiarity like a Waverly’s favourite blanket. That’s where they were at now, apparently, and Waverly idly wondered if there was a nickname Nicole used. “It’s sweet that you wanted to defend Wynonna.”

“Someone had to,” said Waverly. Everyone had treated Wynonna like a time bomb ever since she was a child, and she didn’t need Aunt Gus doing it too. “But hey, the DS. I think you might like the game I’ve got in there. No prior experience required.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Animal Crossing.”

Nicole tilted her head in recognition. “I think my roommate played that. Something about chores? And...turnips?”

Waverly shrugged. “That’s...not inaccurate. But it’s more fun than it sounds! Promise.”

“Alright. Why don’t you sell me on it then?” The playfulness in Nicole’s voice told Waverly she didn’t need to work hard to do that; Nicole already decided she was going to play the game regardless of how interesting Waverly made it sound.

“So, the premise is you’re moving out and heading to a new town. You get a house but have to pay off the loan before you can upgrade it. So you gather fruit, catch fish and bugs, and do other stuff to get bells—which is the currency.”

“Sounds like my life right now, startin’ over in a new town. Minus the ah, gathering fruit and bugs part.”

“What, you don’t run around with a big bug net on weekends?”

“No catching butterflies for me,” Nicole sighed. “And the only fruit gathering I do is at the grocery store.”

“Well, you can live out your wildest bug-and-fruit acquisition fantasies ingame. It’s surprisingly addictive,” said Waverly. “And! You get to decorate your house, design cute clothes. The best part is how you can be friends with the villagers—they’re all different animals with quirks and personalities. Hence the, y’know, “animal” in Animal Crossing.”

At the mention of animal villagers, Nicole perked up. “What kind of animals?”

“Cats, dogs, bears...there’s cool ones like an octopus!”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been friends with an octopus. Do you get to be an animal too?”

“Nope, sadly. You’re human. Also you’re the mayor?”

“This is starting to sound complicated,” Nicole said.

“It really isn’t,” Waverly assured her. “You’ll get the hang of it. It’s just a nice, relaxing game where nothing bad happens.”

Nicole hummed. “I could use relaxing...and nothing bad happening.”

“So you’ll try it?”

“Uh, a game where you’re friends with animals, or the three green-tinted channels of hospital TV? I think I’ll go with the animals.”

Waverly brought her fists up and grinned excitedly. “You’ll really like it! And you can borrow it for as long as you want. I can give you my charger and everything.”

“You sure?” Nicole curled the DS to her chest as if protecting the tiny device. “I wouldn’t want to part you from your animal friends.”

“I’m sure they’ll find a way to carry on without me...especially with you as the mayor.” Nicole tucked in her bottom lip and looked down in an attempt to hide a small smirk. Even Waverly had to admit that it was kind of adorable, and out of nowhere, she felt herself floundering. “Um, also I’m really busy right now anyways. Two jobs...not much time, right?”

“Yeah. I’d imagine.” Nicole carefully lowered the DS beside her onto the bed, giving it a small pat before looking back up at Waverly. “Hey so, I know it’s all Men In Black covert ops and stuff, but what do you do for Black Badge, exactly?”

“Well…” The question was inevitable. Waverly had been lucky so far. Wynonna bore the brunt of Nicole’s line of questioning, and Waverly wasn’t sure what she was able to say without making Black Badge seem more suspicious than it already was.

“I guess I’m sort of a local guide? I know a looot about Purgatory’s history.”

“Makes sense. Purgatory’s your history, after all. Being an Earp,” Nicole said.

A surge of pride made Waverly adjust her posture. Nicole understood. “Yeah! Exactly! I’ve acquired a huge collection of old articles, archives...know what buildings used to be what. With your description of-”  Waverly hesitated, “-the smell of gasoline, sour fruit. It was liquor. We were able to figure out he was hiding in some old bootlegging tunnels.”

Waverly felt a kick to her ribcage when she saw Nicole turn ashen, the light behind her eyes snuffed out for only a moment—but too long all the same. She was about to apologize before Nicole caught her. “It’s okay. What happened, happened. And I want to know everything about it.”

She couldn’t meet Nicole’s gaze. Waverly wished she could tell her everything—about Jack, about the curse, all of it—but keeping Purgatory intact was more important than the truth, no matter how much it hurt to keep it from Nicole. It was unfair. She deserved to know what happened to her, and instead she was stuck in a hospital bed, as confused as she was when she woke up, still nowhere closer to an answer.

“...but you can’t tell me,” Nicole said quietly. Seeing Nicole’s disappointment killed Waverly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I mean, I get it, confidential, classified,” Nicole’s nostrils flared.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m only one step above Black Badge mascot. I’m just a cocktail waitress who reads a lot and got swept into it.”

The anger drained from Nicole. “Don’t sell yourself short. Working at Shorty’s must help a lot. Knowing and meeting people is an asset.”

“I do meet a lot of people, yeah.” Waverly cleared her throat. “Like you.”

Nicole chuckled. “Though I doubt anyone got quite the introduction like I had.”

“Oh, god, that,” Waverly winced. That entire situation still made Waverly embarrassed—and like all embarrassing things, it played in her mind over and over, analyzing every frame for things she would’ve done differently. _A boy-man. Really, Waves?_

“I’m sorry I mentioned the, uh… “good thing you’re not a guy” thing. I didn’t know.”

Nicole was taken by surprise. “Oh, I didn’t think you meant it like that. We’re both still not guys—nothing I haven’t seen before.” Nicole cocked her head. “Though I don’t remember me telling you I’m a lesbian.”

Waverly felt her entire being screech to a halt. She desperately wished she could backtrack at this point, wanting to slam a reset button somewhere. Nicole hadn’t mentioned it—and she didn’t want to explain to her that she’d just assumed, that the way she looked at her that day told her everything she needed to know. Being a waitress as long as Waverly had, she’d learned when someone was flirting with her, men who lacked tact and charm. Officer Haught? She was most _definitely_ flirting with her. Yet, unlike all those men at Shorty’s, this was different. It felt...nice. Good. Sincere. And charm was something that Nicole wasn’t lacking in.

“Uh…”

Nicole laughed. “It’s alright. I’m not exactly subtle.”

 _Yeah, tell me about it._ “Still. Didn’t see me at my finest moment there.”

“Well, I think it worked out just fine.” Nicole smiled, her thumb tracing along the scratched cover of the DS. “Speaking of jobs, I never asked; did you go to school for anything?”

“Technically. Got my university degree via online correspondence in Ancient Languages and History. Which is also helpful for Black Badge—surprisingly,” she added quickly.

“Wow,” Nicole was genuinely impressed and gave an appreciative nod. “I knew you were smart, but damn, girl!”

“Haha, well,” Waverly curled up, “it’s just interesting, you know? Knowing how we got to where we are today.”

While it was truly fascinating to Waverly, it wasn’t her primary motivation for studying it. The Earp curse was something she’d been preparing her whole life for, taking every course and reading whatever she could get her hands on, anything obscure and oddball in case it could be helpful. It was—but not in the way Waverly wanted. Wynonna was the Heir, and like so many times in her life, she was relegated to playing little sister from the back. Only this time, she was up a degree that she got for nothing.

“And the languages?” asked Nicole.

“Not so different from history when you think about it. It says just as much about the world and the people who spoke them.”

“I never thought about it like that,” Nicole nodded. “What languages do you know?”

“I’m fluent in English...ha, obviously,” Waverly said. “Then Latin, German, and French. But I can sort of understand others, like Italian, Spanish, Norwegian. Once you study a few you sort of get a handle on the rest.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep! Like, take English for example. It’s basically German that monks decided wasn’t fancy enough, so they added French and Latin to elevate it.”

“That deliberate?” Nicole said. “I guess I’ve always assumed language just kinda...happened.”

“It does, mostly. But...okay! What’s the black and white farm animal and what’s the structure you live in?”

“A cow and a house?”

“Right, or kuh and haus in German. And what about the meat that comes from a cow and then what do you call a big house?”

“Beef and mansion?”

“Or boeuf and maison in French. So...you get class distinction, borrowed words...honestly, English is a Frankenstein’s monster of a language with no rules. That’s why it’s so hard to learn.” Waverly caught herself rambling again. She couldn’t help it; she hadn’t actually talked about what she learned with anyone, or at least had anyone as attentive as Nicole, who by some miracle hadn’t zoned off on Waverly.

“My French is mandatory elementary and high school level so I might be wrong here—but I know there’s some kind of consistency. A lot to remember, but,” Nicole said.

“No, you’re right. English used to have conjugations and endings too, but they just kinda fell to the wayside.” Waverly felt her confidence coming back. So Nicole _was_ paying attention. “Point is, once you know one language of the same family: germanic, romantic, all of that— you sorta know the others, even the dead ones. And I guess it’s just...cool to think about why we talk the way we do and what had to happen for us to get there. Why some things are forgotten and why some things survive.”

“I guess it’s something we take for granted, history, language. That things happen for a reason whether we know it or not.”

And speaking of reasons, for one Waverly couldn’t place, she felt her body tense, like she was hit with something small enough she wasn’t sure it happened at all. “We’re still talking about languages right?”

“Yeah that sentence got away from me,” Nicole laughed. “That’s incredible though! You could go anywhere in the world and ask where the best restaurants are.”

“In theory. I’ve never left Purgatory,” Waverly mumbled. “It’s silly, right? I have a degree and I still work at Shorty’s. All those languages and I haven’t even had a chance to use them.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t someday. Life doesn’t always start when you want it to,” Nicole said. “You’ve got time, Waverly. There’s plenty left to do everything you’ve ever wanted.”

There was always something about Nicole and how she spoke, how even the most impossible platitudes sounded within reach. And with Nicole smiling at her, those big earth coloured eyes and all their assurances, Waverly believed that she really could go somewhere beyond Purgatory.

“Someday. I think I will.”

“Ohh, I know you will,” Nicole said. “Don’t worry about feeling stuck. It happens to everyone, trust me. And right now, I know you use your knowledge for Black Badge, for important things. You’re putting it to good use, no matter how close you are to Black Badge mascot.”

Waverly smiled. “I guess it feels like it’s not enough sometimes,” Waverly admitted. It was hard to feel like she was contributing when Dolls and Wynonna got to go in guns blazing, while she was stuck connecting red string to old portraits on a corkboard when she wasn’t serving drinks. But Nicole...talking with her made Waverly feel something she hadn’t in a very, very long time.

Seen. More importantly, _heard._ And that Nicole could hear and see parts of her that no one else bothered was new, invigourating, and absolutely terrifying.

“Hey,” Nicole reached out to touch Waverly’s arm. “It wasn’t me who saved Wynonna. It was you. You’re the one who figured it out.”

Waverly relaxed under the touch, the simple gesture putting her mind at ease, as if Nicole somehow had magic hands. “Yeah. I guess I did.” She put her hand over Nicole’s, gently, not wanting to hurt her and ruin the spell. “Thanks, Nicole. You’re like a walking motivational poster.”

“Yeah, apparently I’m a lot of walking things.” Waverly raised her eyebrows. “Wynonna called me a walking bumper sticker.”

“It just means you’re inspirational!” Waverly said.

“As long as it’s a good thing.” Nicole picked up the DS and opened it. “Now, how ‘bout you show me some crossed animals?”

Waverly chuckled. “Sure. Just let me check a few things? I have to delete my file first.”

Nicole nodded and handed the console over to Waverly, who booted it up and loaded her old save. The last time she played, she sent her future self a letter, and Waverly knew enough time had passed that when she checked her ingame mailbox, it was there waiting for her. She opened it.

_Note to self: break up with Champ._

At reading her past self’s letter she laughed bitterly, recalling how her and Champ got into a fight about something benign, so mundane that she couldn’t even remember the specifics anymore. Yet apparently it was pressing enough at the time that past Waverly considered it the most important message she could have sent herself. _Well, past me,_ Waverly thought. _I did it. Now what?_

Nicole tilted her head inquisitively, Waverly’s laughter dying down. “I sent myself a letter about stuff I should do in the future.”

“Yeah? How you’d do?” Nicole asked.

“Fine. Good, actually.” Deleting her file, she handed the DS back to Nicole before realizing she was going to have a hard time holding it with an IV in her hand. “Your hand-”

“It’s okay! I can hold it on my lap and kinda...tilt it?” she demonstrated. It worked okay, sure. But…

“I'd offer to hold it up for you, but," Waverly indicated her sling. "Look at us, huh? Two broken halves."

"Just out of commission." Nicole’s face did that... _thing_  it did. The tilt-head-down-smile-then-look-up thing that Waverly noticed every time. It was hard not to, especially with how it made her feel—this couldn’t possibly be the right word for it—confused. Lost, even, but in a way where the relief of being found was part of the rush.

Desperate to make this work, Waverly thought of an idea. "What if I came around to your left side, and you could control the right hand stuff?"

"Teamwork. I like it." 

Licking her now dry lips, Waverly picked up her chair and moved it to the other side of the bed, tilting her body so she was close to Nicole, holding the DS high so they could both see the screen. The way Waverly had to angle her body to move her arm to the side was awkward, but Waverly couldn't bring herself to care, especially when Nicole brought her hand up to hold the other side of the DS, thumbing over the buttons and getting a feel for them. 

“Good?” Waverly asked.

Nicole nodded. “Great!”

Waverly could see Nicole’s reflection in the screen when it went dark, looking less tired and drained than when she first arrived. She was calm. Content. As if feeling Waverly’s eyes on her, Nicole met them with her own, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

 _Yeah,_ Waverly thought. _It is._

* * *

 

She was sore still, but all things considered, it was nothing to complain about. She was back in her own home, could fall asleep in her own bed, and Calamity Jane was laying in her lap on the couch, orange fur perfectly soft and exactly what was needed.  Nicole had been playing Waverly’s DS for a while now, directing her little character with a funny hat to pick up a bunch of seashells before fishing in the ocean. Waverly was right; this was pretty fun. Out of the two of them, Nicole didn’t think Waverly would be the first to get _her_ out of her comfort zone. 

Initially Nicole was surprised Waverly visited her in the hospital. While they could safely call themselves friends now, she didn’t think it was at a point where Waverly would go out of her way to come and see her. Then she remembered who Waverly was; kind and big hearted, full of a sweetness and light that everyone should aspire for. That made it all the harder to get a read on the situation. Was Waverly just being nice to her, or was it something else? The light touches, how Waverly leaned close enough that Nicole could smell her perfume while they played the game together...maybe she was just being hopeful that it meant anything. Because on top of the uncertainty that Waverly liked Nicole back, Waverly would have to contend with the fact she liked women. That sort of thing took time to digest—Nicole had been there—and if that was the road Waverly wanted to go down, she was more than happy to be there at the end.

Nicole’s phone lit up in the corner of her vision. She leaned over to see who messaged her a little too quickly, scaring Calamity out of her lap when she read the name. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked her phone, excitement making her dizzy as she read the text.

_Hey, how are you feeling?_

Nicole smiled. _Right as rain_

Physically, maybe a little less right and maybe more on the mediocre side. But otherwise, Nicole was flying.

_Thanks for checking in on me_

Waverly wrote back.

_Oh yeah ha ha of course um_

_🐱_ _🍆🌸_ _✈️_

 

Nicole scratched her head. What the hell did cat eggplant flower plane mean?

* * *

 

 _What the hell does cat eggplant flower plane mean,_ Waverly scolded herself.

She threw her phone down beside her on her bed and rubbed her eyes, desperately needing to get the tension out of her system. A university degree in language, and here Waverly was, struggling with finding the right thing to text. There really was no denying it at this point. But it turned out that acknowledgment didn’t always equal relief.

 _Congratulations,_ she laughed at herself, _you’re probably not straight._

It’s not that Waverly was never open to the possibility. Like everyone else (probably?) she just _assumed_ she was heterosexual, especially since up until now, girls had never caught her eye. At twenty one years old, she figured that was that, it was written in stone. As it turned out, all it took was a 5’8 ½ tall redhead woman to change her mind.

At first she thought her awkwardness around Nicole was due to her less than stellar first impression, beer soaked and deciding that _now_ was the time to take her top off, and the stumbled sentences that followed after. She’d said it herself-Nicole wasn’t some guy. It shouldn’t have been that weird. Yet there was this feeling, a strange pull that Waverly felt towards her as soon as Nicole walked through the doors. It was that inexplicable thing of knowing that Nicole was important, that she would have as big role to play in a way unknown, a strange cosmic tether that drew them together. But it was another thing that truly gave Waverly pause.

Nicole was _beautiful._ Really, really beautiful.

That’s when the excuses began. Objectively, of course Nicole was attractive. She had the cutest dimpled smile, the nicest laugh, the biggest, softest doe eyes she’d ever seen. The leap in her stomach whenever she saw Nicole’s shadow through the glazed window of BBD didn’t mean anything. The way Nicole looked down before looking up at her and how it made Waverly feel didn’t mean anything either. How she wanted to learn everything about Nicole, how she hated pickles and loved the outdoors? Just friendly curiosity. Nothing more.

Waverly could pinpoint the exact moment the pieces started falling into place. It was after Shorty died, when Nicole came in at his wake, soft hands on top of hers, offering words of kindness and sympathy. It was how Waverly felt _sad_ when Nicole pulled her hands away, and how they weren’t there when Waverly reached to have them back, hitting the sticky lacquer of the bar instead. And when she saw Nicole in the hospital for the first time, terrified about Wynonna, Waverly’s heart was with Nicole too, unable to hold back her tears as she choked out her words.

_I’m just glad you’re okay._

Waverly’s hospital visit only confirmed her rising suspicions about herself, her hypothesis proven. That was all well and good—but what, exactly, was she supposed to do about it now? Waverly picked her phone back up again, looking at the little text bubbles and wondering if Nicole would answer back. With the nonsensical string of emojis Waverly decided to send, probably not. It was on her to say something. Literally anything.

To her frustration, she found herself tossing her phone down again, not able to think of a single thing to say, and knowing that she wouldn’t even if she could. This was all so new still. Raw and open and still tender, Waverly was exposed and not enjoying how vulnerable this all made her feel. With how much doubt she’d been facing lately, being confused about her sexuality this late in life was the last thing she needed. And the ironic part, both in the dictionary definition and Alanis Morissette rain-on-a-wedding-day way? The only person she could talk to about it was the source of it.

Groaning, Waverly flopped backwards onto her bed, shutting her eyes tight and feeling a headache creeping in around her temples. _Now what_ continued to echo in her head, a feedback loop so cacophonous that Waverly almost wish she’d never figured any of this out. Truthfully—even shamefully—the answer to _now what_ was nothing. She wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. Because no matter how badly she wanted Nicole, no matter what she made Waverly feel, the thought of letting her in felt too much like drowning, that she’d fill her lungs and bronchioles and consume her.

And she felt her chest burning, longing and painful, laying on her bed and thinking about how much her ears hurt whenever she tried not to cry.


End file.
